like a sunset

[priya-spade]

@mellarkinit

The first night on the train was full of restlessness. As much as Echo wanted to sleep and maybe get a few hours of peace from her never ending thoughts of fear, she didn’t get much shut eye. She tossed and she turned. The bed was one of the most comfortable beds she had ever laid on and the sheets were softer than any fabric she had in her home. But not even the softest bed and the warmest blanket could bring her peace in this situation. 

Once the sun started to rise over the horizon and she could see the light peering through the window, she decided it was okay to get up. She brunette slowly sat up from the bed and swung her feet to the side. It felt so foreign to wake up in a place like this. She took a second to close her eyes and take a breath, hoping to steady the nerves that were already starting to form. Her brown hair that had been in a braid now fall loosely with messy waves past her shoulders. She tucked a strand behind her ear before slipping her shoes back on and finally headed out to the main cabin. 

The door to the main cabin opened without her touching it and then shut behind her once she walked through it. In front of her was a full array of breakfast foods and drinks, some foods she had never even seen before. She walked silently over to the table and gently ran her fingers over the smooth surface. She was so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t heard the door open. 

[mellarkinit]

A sleepless night turned over into an early morning. Light filtered through the small window just above his bed, the thin lace curtains didn’t do much to block the sun. The fluffy white comforter surrounded him and the feather pillows that should have been under his head lay discarded on the floor, further evidence of his restlessness. Sweat dampened his forehead, causing his hair to stick lightly to his forehead.

Peeta brushed his hand across his face, pushing the curly locks out of his eyes, and sat up, reaching for the shirt that he must have shrugged off in his sleep. Memories of the nightmares he’d had plagued him as he walked through the hallway of the train, rubbing the dark stubble that’d begun to grow across his cheeks as he went. 

The door to the main room zipped open as he approached it, a nice little touch that he’d probably have appreciated more a few days ago. His eyes widened a bit when he took in the sight of the food piled high in front of him. Silver platters held various pastries and fruits, while pitchers of water and milk sat on the tables littered around them. “Wow.” Was all he said. Everyone knew that the Capitol was a land of comforts, but he’d never realized just how many comforts that had.

[priya-spade]

Echo’s sudden change in demeanor seemed to fuel him. They were going to fight until the very end. Even if there was going to be an end, he’d rather fight than give up.

He nodded, “Give them hell.” Rubbing his eyes, he realized how drained he felt from the events of the day. There was so much excitement and fear coursing through him that there wasn’t much room for anything else.

“I think to do that, we should probably get some sleep first.”

Echo didn’t know if it was really how she felt about the games, in all honesty she felt like giving up and not trying but that would mean giving into what the Capitol wanted. Saying was a lot easier than doing in that moment because giving the Capitol hell would take a lot more than just talk.

When Peeta mentioned sleep she nodded once but still didn’t move. “I don’t know how much I’ll actually sleep.” Echo had enough problems sleeping when she didn’t have to worry about her impending death but now that she had it she was convinced she would never see a wick of sleep again. “But I guess it’s worth a shot.” She spoke softly before nodding. 

Echo took a breath and looked over at Peeta. “I’ll seen you soon then?” She repeated to him just like she had before the reaping. In all honesty, she never though soon would mean on a train to the Capitol where they would both die but now it meant something totally different. Echo stood and turned on her heel to head off to her bedroom for a night of tossing and turning that was supposed to resemble sleep. 

[mellarkinit]

She was right, of course. Sleep felt so far away when his mind had been racing around non-stop ever since his name was called out. Being able to relax was something he ached for but he doubted it would come. Nonetheless, he knew they needed to at least try and rest. The next few weeks of training would be brutal at best and then during the games there would be no sleep.

Worry lines crinkled into his forehead as he watched Echo speak. It seemed silly now, their little feud that’d been going on since primary school. But maybe the competition would help them each get better— at least as much as they could. He didn’t want to beat her, though. He didn’t want to beat anyone. This wasn’t a competition he even wanted to take part of but he was being dragged in, kicking and screaming.

“See you soon.” He muttered back to her as he watched her slip through the hallway that led to their respective rooms. After a moment, he followed, ready to put the day behind him and begin anew. Hopefully, it would be one of promise, though he couldn’t conceal his doubts about that.

[priya-spade]

Jaw and hands clenched, Peeta leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Miller was probably right, hell, he could still feel the pure adrenaline rushing through him. They’d both be in better condition to take in tons of information once they calmed down, but would they? It wouldn’t surprise him if he stayed this jittery up until the games. It felt like it was never-ending.

“Don’t listen to him,” Peeta spoke, his eyes still closed, as if he was going to drift off into sleep. Though, he doubted he would sleep well in the next few weeks. “He’s trying to get to you.” He paused before adding, “And he’s a drunk.” That, of course, didn’t mean that Haymitch’s information wasn’t valuable but he knew it’d take some coaxing to get anything out of him. He’d be sure to work on that first thing in the morning.

One eye lazily opened and he peered over at Echo before shaking his head and sitting up once more, his leg bouncing again. He couldn’t keep still. “I don’t know how they expect us to react.” But how would anyone react? They were stuck in an impossible situation where the only two outcomes were either survival or death. It was painted in black and white, yet that didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

Echo crossed her arms and sat back in her chair when Peeta tried to tell her not to let Haymitch get to her. He already had gotten to her. She shook her head trying to shake Peeta’s words off because the words had already gotten to her. She swallowed hard and didn’t even turn to look at Peeta.

She heard Peeta’s words about their reactions but even that didn’t produce words from her. Echo felt like she had stayed quiet for ages before she finally spoke. “He didn’t even look at me.” She clenched her jaw. “He did… but just as another tribute.” The brunette stayed quiet for a moment after realizing she had just laid out a very hard and personal aspect of her life. She shouldn’t have said that and sounded vulnerable. 

Echo swallowed and looked over at Peeta. “How do we react to being shuttled off to our deaths?” Echo looked at him with a flicker of her eyelashes. “We give them hell.” 

[mellarkinit]

Echo’s sudden change in demeanor seemed to fuel him. They were going to fight until the very end. Even if there was going to be an end, he’d rather fight than give up.

He nodded, “Give them hell.” Rubbing his eyes, he realized how drained he felt from the events of the day. There was so much excitement and fear coursing through him that there wasn’t much room for anything else.

“I think to do that, we should probably get some sleep first.”

[mellarkinit]

Jaw and hands clenched, Peeta leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes. Miller was probably right, hell, he could still feel the pure adrenaline rushing through him. They’d both be in better condition to take in tons of information once they calmed down, but would they? It wouldn’t surprise him if he stayed this jittery up until the games. It felt like it was never-ending.

“Don’t listen to him,” Peeta spoke, his eyes still closed, as if he was going to drift off into sleep. Though, he doubted he would sleep well in the next few weeks. “He’s trying to get to you.” He paused before adding, “And he’s a drunk.” That, of course, didn’t mean that Haymitch’s information wasn’t valuable but he knew it’d take some coaxing to get anything out of him. He’d be sure to work on that first thing in the morning.

One eye lazily opened and he peered over at Echo before shaking his head and sitting up once more, his leg bouncing again. He couldn’t keep still. “I don’t know how they expect us to react.” But how would anyone react? They were stuck in an impossible situation where the only two outcomes were either survival or death. It was painted in black and white, yet that didn’t make it any easier to stomach.

[mellarkinit]

The chuckle that released from his throat was filled with tension, like he’d been holding his breath for so long and he finally got the chance to gasp for air. Just a few hours ago, they’d been together awkwardly chatting about cake and their families. Now they were being carted away to their deaths- in an elegant way, but it didn’t make the fear any easier to swallow. Being blanketed in such luxuries seemed to make it worse. They made him uncomfortable. Peeta was used to dirt everywhere and houses that looked like they’d collapse if another leaf hit the roof, not crystal chandeliers and leather goods that he didn’t trade every spare coin for.

Just as he was going to respond, the train door opened once again. In strode Effie, her tall heels still clicking against the tile floors. Behind her, came Haymitch stumbling as always. Peeta was happy that he was sitting on the other side of the room because the old victor looked like he was going to be sick at any moment. When he saw them, he sat up straighter, ready to ask questions and begin their training as soon as possible. He wanted a fair chance and the only way he was going to do that is if he prepared.

Haymitch made a beeline to the rolling bar that sat near the entrance, he scrutinized the selection of alcohol before pouring a generous amount of what looked like whiskey into one of the crystalline glasses. Peeta had to hold back from rolling his eyes. Everyone knew the victor self-medicated but he’d really appreciate if for two weeks the man could at least try and keep sober.

“So,” Peeta leaned on his knees, his fingers intertwined with each other, “should we start going over strategies? Because I had an id-”

Haymitch stuck a finger to his lips and shushed loudly, “Accept your inevitable and imminent death.”

[mellarkinit]

The doors to the train opened automatically when Peeta stepped onto the platform, revealing an interior that he’d only ever seen on Capitol T.V. It was intricately designed with leather furniture and actual wallpapers lining the sides. He felt like he’d stepped onto an alien planet. A peacekeeper pushed his forward and the doors whizzed shut behind him. His eyes darted around the room, taking everything in. He was still in fight or flight mode.

On the other side of the room, he noticed a tall brown leather chair next to a window, next to it sat Echo. Teeth tugged at his lower lip as he walked over to her and sat down, his weight causing the leather to squeak like it’d never been used before. It probably hadn’t. There were so many things that he wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Nothing seemed right. Nervousness coursed through his body, causing his leg to bounce up and down which rattled the table that sat beside them.

He clasped his hands together. They were clammy and shaking still like the rest of him. He kept thinking that maybe he’d wake up, that this had been a horrible nightmare and the Reaping hadn’t happened yet. It was wishful thinking. Wishful thinking was dangerous.

[mellarkinit]

His pulse was racing so hard that he couldn’t hear anything that was being said, or at least he couldn’t absorb the words. Effie directed him forward to shake Echo’s hand. Grabbing her palm in his, he could feel how shaken she was, knowing he was probably reacting in the same way. Blindly, he followed the peacekeeper that lead him forward into the town hall and up a set of spiral stairs into a room he assumed was where he’d say his goodbyes to his family.

They opened the doors and ushered him in, his parents rushing in after them. Peeta’s mother wore a smile as she tugged at his hair, the curls coming loose as they dried. “District twelve might finally have another victor.” Her darks eyes flicked to Peeta’s father and he gave a nod of approval. “She’s going to prove something.”

Peeta’s heart sank. He should have expected that the cruel remarks wouldn’t stop even though he was being sent to his inevitable death. There was just surprised in the fact that they were being said during his possible final moments with those that were supposed to love him. He didn’t say anything back to his mother, only reached forward and pulled her into his chest. No matter what she said, she was still his mom. He buried his face into her hair. It smelled like gardenias and bread. She gingerly patted his back and pulled away, trying once again to swipe aside the wild dark curls that seemed to perpetually be in his eyes.

“This is a step in history.” She murmured and stepped back from him. His father stepped forward and clasped Peeta’s still shaking hand.

“Good luck.” It was as much encouragement as he knew how to say.

A guard pounded open door, “Time’s up!” they shouted and led Peeta away from the room and down the stairs towards the train station.

[mellarkinit]

Peeta sucked in a sharp breath as soon as he heard Echo’s name called. It was cruel. It wasn’t fair. She already lost a brother to the Games, hadn’t her family suffered enough? He willed someone in the audience to volunteer- anyone- but, no hands shot up, no brave soul stepped forward. He watched as she made her way to the stage, he could tell she was riddled entirely with shock.

The cries of who he knew was her mother called out behind them, her sobs didn’t make the morbid moment any easier. Effie only cleared her throat, giving an overly whitened smile to the audience. “Ah, here she is!” She exclaimed while directing Echo on where to stand. “Alright then, time for the young men.” 

The way the word “young” slipped off of her lips was a sting in and of itself. It was as if she were greeting her friend’s children, it didn’t belong. They were all children being used to barter with. Their lives were pieces that the Capitol threw away in their Game. Effie Trinket knew this. Even worse, she enjoyed it. 

Effie strode to the other bowl, her heels clicking along as she went. Peeta sucked in another breath, this time in anticipation. She hovered her silk gloved hand over the opening and spun her fingers around, building up the apprehension of the audience before plucking a piece of white paper from the top and returning to her microphone.

 “Peeta Mellark.”

His heart dropped and the breath he’d been holding came out fast, like the wind had been knocked out of him. His jaw went slack as he started making his way to the stage. Every step he took felt like he would topple over.

[mellarkinit]

Once Echo reached her home her mother immediately took the cake from her hands and placed it on the center of the table. She was told to go get ready for the reaping before they ate as a family. “Yes mother.” Echo told her softly. Making her way upstairs she changed into her nicest dress, which still looked worn. It was a gray simple dress that she paired with brown laced boots. She tied a blue ribbon in her hair and braided it into one thick braid down her back. Once finished she came down stairs to her family who were waiting for her. Her mother, and her two older brothers. “Where’s father?” Echo asked. “He was summoned early for the reaping.” Her mother replied. With a flicker of pain in her eyes she nodded once and sat down at the table, continuing their annual tradition. Suddenly, a large horn was heard throughout the district letting everyone know it was time.  

“Look at the table..” his eyebrow shot up, confused by her statement until he locked eyes on the silver pieces that lay on the edge of the only table they had in the bakery. With a roll of his eyes, he walked over and scooped them up and into his apron pocket. Now he wouldn’t get a beating, at least. He peered up at the clock that sat above the entrance. Like the window, it was mostly covered in flour and was almost indecipherable, but from what he could tell, it was almost time.

Unwilling hands put away the dough he’d been kneading earlier along with the icing pipe. He fumbled around with the knot of his apron before shrugging it off and returning it to its rightful hook just beside the cabinet that held all of their desserts. It wasn’t long before his mother was shouting his name, breaking through the otherwise silent room. The motions of closing up the shop were enough of a habit that it wasn’t long before he was turning out the lights, locking the door, and making his way on to their attached home.

He darted to his room, muttering a small hello to his parents as he passed them. His mother was too focused on the oven to say anything back and his father, well, his father never focused much on anything. Neatly pressed clothes were already spread across his bed- his only unstained white shirt, charcoal pants, and leather shoes that were so polished you could hardly tell they were hand-me-downs from a miner that couldn’t wear them anymore. A pitcher of water sat next to his bed which he dipped his hands in and ran over his hair, letting the water slick back his usually unruly locks. It took a few moments to scrape the dried flour and dough from under his fingernails before he changed into his best clothes. The ones that were only brought out once a year. The last Reaping. With a deep breath, he shoved his shaking hands into his pockets and tried to keep calm. Nervousness wasn’t an unknown concept on that day, though, he was surprised he still felt it after all these years.

By the time he’d emerged from his room, the trumpets blared, meaning that it was time to gather in the town center. Together, he and his parents left their home and made their way to the Reaping. Guards were stationed at the end of the street and he paused to write out his tesserae and place it into the giant glass bowl that held some poor kid’s future. Twelve times. The odds weren’t great but he knew of people that had to put their names in upwards of forty times for their siblings. Maybe they’d be in his favor afterall. Moving forward from the line of people waiting to put their names in the bowl, he followed the others to his section where everyone stood and waited for the ceremony to begin.

[mellarkinit]

Nodding, he turned to where he’d discarded the cover from earlier and carefully placed it over the finished cake. As he slid the plate towards her, he sighed, cursing himself for trying to put off the inevitable. No amount of slothing around would prevent the Reaping. Getting it over with was the easiest bet.

The rustle of coins in her pockets made him shake his head, “Don’t worry about this one.” It was the least he could do, this was a day of mourning for her family and he often gave away goods to those that had lost someone anyway. Why should she be any different? “It’s on the house,” he paused, “just don’t tell my mom.” A smirk crawled across his features, it felt out of place, but there had to be some light to be found even on the darkest day in the district.

“I’ll see you at the Reaping,” he started to turn back towards his work before deciding against it. In his best impression and dripped with sarcasm, he muttered “and may the odds be ever in your favor.” His voice was light and tilting like the Capitol sprung escort that plagued their streets once a year. “Hopefully, nothing changes.”

[mellarkinit]

His eyes flicked back to his work as he continued piping the last bit of the cake. Thoughts tugging at him as he went. A response tried to form in his mouth, but he couldn’t find the right words to say so he just stayed quiet. I’ll be here with a family that views me as another mouth to feed! He wanted to scream, but he knew his place. He also knew that they weren’t wrong, sometimes having too many family members was dangerous, especially when the peacekeepers didn’t exactly keep up with their fair rations. Taking a deep breath, he set the piper down and spun the cake on it’s platter, analyzing it one last time for any spots he might of missed.

When she broke the almost uncomfortable silence, he let out a sigh, happy to talk about something else other than her broken family and his own.

“Not typically.” They were supposed to, by orders of the Capitol, take the day off and prepare for the excitement that the Games brought forth. No one really obeyed that, though, particularly in the outlying districts where they didn’t have much of a shot of coming out victorious. “We’re usually too busy to have traditions, so I’m here all day before and after the Reaping.”

[mellarkinit]

After a moment filled of silence Echo swallowed once more and said, “It’s the last year our names are in that bowl.” She added, trying to make some kind of civil and casual conversation that wasn’t about her brother.

For a moment, he wordlessly continued icing the sides of the cake, turning the plate so that he could complete the last little section. The last year. He should be overwhelmed with relief. The fact that he more than likely would never have to see the inside of arena or die such a cruel premature death as a spectacle. His name had been entered ten times due to the tesserae- substantially less than some of the other he knew who put their names in additional times for their family members. In that way, he was fortunate not to have any siblings to look after.

A pang of jealousy tinged in his chest. Echo probably never knew of the additional fear from adding your name extra times into the giant glass bowl. How every sheet of paper was your death written over and over. He shook his head, to himself but also to her question, “It’s also the last year my family gets more grain.” His teeth tugged at his lip in worry. They’d have to start trading at the Hub more, Peeta had already spoken to his father about setting up a booth. It was risky, but it was better than starving.

“But yeah, it’s kind relieving to know that it’s the last one,” he paused his piping, “for us, at least.”

There were so many children whose names were still circling in the bottom of that bowl and would be for many years to come. It was a vicious cycle and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find it in himself to celebrate that.

[mellarkinit]

A sadness glinted in his eyes as he clutched the towel in his palm and pushed himself off of the counter, “Yeah, yeah, we have it.” Peeta had almost forgotten what day it was. The Reaping. On the inside, he chastised himself. Someone was going to be sent off to their deaths today, and he couldn’t even give them enough respect to remember what day it was. The tall cabinet they kept the special orders in was just a few steps away. The door creaked as he pulled it open. The sound filling the otherwise silent room. The cake- a simple chocolate with white frosting- rested on a plate with a plastic cover to keep dust off of it. He’d finished baking it the night before along with the other cakes and pies that lined the shelves up and down. The districts were forced to treat the Games as a celebration, even though it felt more like a funeral. Nonetheless, the Peacekeepers brought in a lot of business ordering their desserts for the feasts they held as they watched the games. It was sickening, the thought of enjoying sweets while watching people die.

Carefully, he removed the cake from the shelf and closed the cabinet with his foot. “I just need to ice the flowers on, sorry. I was expecting you a little later and we’ve had a lot of orders…” He knew he didn’t need to explain, but he felt the urge to anyway. Clearing his throat, he set the cake on the counter and dipped his head below, searching the shelves for the icing pipe he used for flowers. After fumbling for a few moments, he found it and took the lid off of the cake before beginning to ice the flowers onto the sides of it.

“How’s your family?” As soon as he asked he regretted it. Everyone knew that the Reaping wasn’t a good time for anyone, much less for the families of those that lost someone in the Games, “Eh, you don’t have to answer that.” He shook his head before turning the plate slightly. He was alternating between roses and simple lines, giving the design a little more depth. Icing cakes and cookies was his favorite part of being in the bakery, so he took it pretty seriously.

[mellarkinit]

The early morning sun shone dimly through the grimy window in the corner of the bakery. No matter how many times his mother made him clean it, the glass was never more than opaque. He blamed the mines that were nearby, the constant dust being kicked up by the trucks used to haul coal back to the Capitol made everything almost impossible to keep clean. It didn’t bother him though, the window still gave him something to daydream through while he kneaded dough with the palms of his hands.

He was stuck in one particular reverie- falling leaves, running water, birds chirping all around, peace- when the ding of the bell above the door shook him out of it. Without glancing up from his work, he knew who it was. 

“Echo,” he greeted, the name slipping off of his tongue like a habit. She came to the bakery every week or so, one of the only regular customers they had, considering everyone else was busy bartering for food at the Hub. “You’re here early.” An eyebrow ticked upwards as he finally glanced at the girl. He tossed the dough to the side and grabbed a worn cloth to wipe the flour from his hands. “You want the usual?” He mustered a smile and leaned against the counter-top.